XXXIV – FUROR TEUTONICA – Part 1

Townschool of the St.Marion the pitiful, Town of Wai-Chong, Central China, September 2nd, 1939, 23.48 hours

The lady Boi Ling, most loved teachress of her towns small school, built with American money a few decades ago, was nervous, and justifiably so. This was a dangerous venture every time, the more so, as on this occasion her contact could be easily identified as an enemy by all who might pass by.
She had to admit it was unlikely that someone would enter the schools gymnasium with its mattresses, hockey rackets and basket balls, everything smelling sweaty, but you never knew for sure.
The slender Chinese lady stood in the dark waiting impatiently, wearing a modest western dress modern in New York thirty years ago, her hair in a neat knot at her neck. As she lit an American Pall Mall, the light of the match reflected from her thick glasses.
Meeting the contact now, while the Kuomintang bitches searched every inch of the city for the Japanese killress, was not what she had had in mind when she agreed to join the Black Dragon back in LA, to help bring about an Asian Empire dominated by Japan. But here she was, and...
“I could need a cigarette too.”
Boi Ling nearly fainted as the black clad, slender figure emerged from the dark behind her. The killress was small, her clothes dirty, but her eyes – Boi Ling shuddered.
“So?”
“Uh, so... what? You...”
“Cigarette, quick.”
“Uh, yes, excuse me!”
No wonder the Japanese lived in town like a ghost. Her features were clearly Japanese, as Boi Ling saw while lighting up the Ninjas smoke. Europeans might mistake her for a Chinese girl, but every native would immediately know the ladys race – the race of the cruel, merciless, hated invadresses.
“The message. Deliver it,” the Ninja said, inhaling so deeply her cheeks were sucked in.
Not getting much nicotine lately, eh? Boi Ling thought, with a certain joy that the Ninja suffered a bit. A small thing, but helping the Chinese traitress to check her fear of the killress – a very small bit at least.
“Uh, yes, sure. It goes:
See me rise again – signed: the daughter.”
Boi Ling had not the slightest idea what that meant, and she didnt even want to know, lest the Ninja might use her katana in here, ending the teachress life.
The killress didnt even blink, it seemed she just enjoyed her smoke, her lips playing with the cigarettes blonde filter.
“Thats all, I mean...”
“Be quiet.”
The Chinese gulped, starring at the Ninja like a rabbit at the snake. It seemed to take a lifetime until the small Japanese had finished her smoke, finally killing the butt under her foot.
“We wont meet again.”
Boi Ling starred at her, an icy hand gripping her heart. What did this mean? Did it mean...
Then the Ninja was gone, vanishing without a trace in the dark. The Chinese shuddered again, slowly collecting both butts from the ground. She couldnt believe she was still alive...

Miyabi left town the same night, marching through the wilderness like she had the past months, living from the land. She reached the frontlines three days later, getting into the Japanese trenches easily.
The message had said: Return immediately to me. The Empress.
Miyabi travelled back to Tokyo while on the other side of the world another killer machine showed its claws...


Polish countryside, near Torun, Northern Poland, September 3rd, 1939, 13.09 hours

“Go in and finish the sluts!”
“Understood. Engaging now.” The radio crackled.
Leutnant Frauke Seeler had just ordered her platoon of four SdKfz.231 GUDRUN to attack the already devastated polish column on the street below in the valley. The GUDRUNs left their cover and rushed down the hill.
Frauke saw the other armoured cars opening fire. She patted her gunnress on the shoulder.
“11o clock, artillery battery moving. Fire at will.”
“On target.”
The 20mm cannon of the GUDRUN started to send tracers into the horses and carts of the enemy battery, whose desperate try to leave the carnage on the street ended in screaming, dying horses and women.
Frauke grinned widely and scanned the ground below for another worthwhile target.
The platoons normal mission was recon deep behind enemy lines, scanning the way ahead for the Panzers that followed. They had observed the road for an hour, seeing the long columns of Polish reinforcements streaming by. The Poles hastily tried to regroup, as their frontline here had already been smashed by Lady General Hermine Guderians I.Panzerkorps.
Frauke had reported back to division and had been informed about an incoming airstrike.
The Stukas had wrought havoc on the Poles. The Leutnant had decided to go in and mop up, now that the Stukas had returned home.
This war was even better adventure than she had thought. The sheer excitement of fighting and killing the Reichs enemies... the Seeler lusted for more.
“New target, 9o clock, infantry hiding in the bushes.”
“On target.”
“Fire!”
Frauke smiled as the Poles died.
“Take that, you scum!” she hissed, her cheeks red by more than excitement, while she eagerly scanned the area for more Poles to kill...


HQ VIII.Fliegerkorps (air corps), Koenigsberg, East Prussia, Germany, September 3rd, 1939, 20.02 hours

“We definitely have to coordinate better with the Panzerkorps.”
Freifrau Manuela von Richthofen, known already as the COBRA since Spain, showed Sandra Jeschonnek, chief of operational staff of Luftwaffe, currently touring the Fliegerkorps participating in Case WHITE, the latest reports.
The Jeschonnek nodded, quickly skimming over the sheets.
“I agree, there were several friendly fire incidents. The Panzers report attacks by Stukas too.”
“We are losing more planes and maidens to our own 20mm quads than to polish AA-fire.”
“Shows at least how effective our Flak is.”
“Be serious, Sandra!”
Since Spain both young generals were close knit, their fortunes in Luftwaffe steadily on the rise.
“Speaking of losses...”
“Dont worry, Sandra, the losses ARE high, but in three weeks from now we will be done here. The Poles are clearly no match for us. And in the West? Everything quiet?”
“Since the allied declaration of war not a single enemy air attack. Not even a false alarm.”
“Hardly surprising. The democracies are whining squires, a weak lot.”
“As the Führa promised. So, Manuela, duty done, whats for the night?”
“Some Spanish wine to fire our memories.”
“Sounds good. Can hardly wait to open this plait you are so fond of to see your wonderful golden mane.”
Von Richthofen stirred. This thing with her hair... well, anyway.


Rekowicze, South eastern Poland, September 5th, 1939, 11.26 hours

“Holy goddess on a bicycle!”
Amy Wilder let out all her frustration at once, clenching her fists, stomping with her feet, and, not to forget, gritting her teeth.
Maria shrugged.
“Well, what do you expect? The Komorskys can hardly be blamed for being reluctant now. I mean, where to go? On foot to the Romanian border? We would never make it in time before the Superfrauen arrive. And we both knew they will arrive real fast.”
Amy nodded.
“But... but sitting here like sheep before the slaughterhouse, doing nothing... I simply cant stand it.”
Automatically, Maria fingered for a new Marlboro, but, the filtered stick already between her lips, she realized again how few she had left of the cigarettes. The local tobacco shop  didnt receive new deliveries since wars start five days ago. Reluctantly, she put the cigarette back in the pack.
They had reached the small town, a greater village to be honest, five days ago on foot, instituting an event to be remembered here for decades to come. Three American ladies visiting the remote home of astonished and delighted inhabitants. Valeries relatives had been shocked at first, then they had been getting very enthusiastic about it. Despite the war just having started, the day, the following night, and another day had passed by filled with celebrations, welcomes, introductions to what must have been the whole population of Rekowicze, and diner after diner after diner.
At first, the Americans had been warmed by the hearty welcome, but as the hours passed, all three felt again the sword of war hanging darkly above the laughing, chatting, brave polish ladies, squires and children swarming around them.
Finally, Valery had spoken with Sibylla Komorsky, her distant aunt and head of the family. But it was too late. The road back to America was closed. Sibylla urged the Americans to leave. If the Germans came here, the family would survive it. The Superfrauen had been here in the Great War, or at least their respective mothers had been. They were hard mistresses, but life would go on as it had before, under Polish, Russian, maybe even Mongol administration.
But could the three Deltas simply leave, counting on their US-passports, without accomplishing their selfimposed mission? There had been no discussion among them. It was clear for all three ladies that such a failure and a meekly retreat was out of the question. But what to do?
Day after day had passed and this morning, Amy and Maria wandered about through the small streets again, followed as usual by a horde of children with curious eyes, constantly chatting in Polish, which both US chicks still didnt understand.
Maria looked back to the children and smiled. A girl, about 11 years old, stepped out of the crowd and astonished the US ladies by speaking in English:
“Excuse me, pretty ladies. Do you have a car in America? A big car?”
Amy nodded, putting her ready grin on her features.
“Sure, little lady. Really big cars, you can bet on it. My first mother did have a gas station with car repair in Texas. I used to work there in my youth.”
“Oh. We had a car repair and cars here too, but the ownress left for America some years ago.”
“Really?”
“Yes, the place is over there. Still cars and trucks left there.”
Amy stopped dead in her tracks. Maria smiled at the children, not getting the point.
“If theres enough gas there too...”Amy muttered to herself.
Then, louder:
“Can you show us the place, cute lady?”
“Sure, Lady Cowgirl, follow me.”
She chatted with the other children, who started to shout full of excitement and enthusiasm and to run towards the new destination. Amy and Maria followed.
Maria eyed the Wilder curiously.
“You have an idea.”
“Lets wait and see. Maybe...”
After a few minutes, children and the two Deltas reached a house with a big wooden gate. A rusty chain was visible.
The English speaking girl exclaimed:
“Its only wound around, not really locked.”
Amy approached the gate. The chain came away easily, and with the sound of aching wood the gate came open.
The children waited, now quiet. Maria waited too. Amy entered the doorway and vanished inside. The Cipolettis need for a Marlboro grew considerably during the next minutes. Instead of further diminishing her dwindling stock of lung torpedoes, Maria decided to follow Amy inside. That is, after about 10 minutes had passed without a sign from the Texan girl.
The doorway, inhabited by some spiders and a lone empty coke bottle, led to a courtyard with open garages in the surrounding walls. About eight cars and trucks where to be found here, constituting probably the finest oldtimer museum east of Warzaw. Most looked like very dead corpses.
Amy was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, a loud scrapping sound, and Amy emerged behind a Ford truck which probably had already seen the Great War.
The Delta was beaming, her eyes blazing.
“There are even all tools here. The truck here must be it, yes!”
“What in hell are you taking about?”
“Sweet, chainsmoking Maria! The truck is our way out. For us AND the Komorsky family.”
“You must be out of your mind, Amy! This... this rusty amalgamation of dead parts will never...”
“There are enough other cars here to help out with the machine parts. Dont forget my first ma has been in the business. And of one thing youd better be sure. Dorothea Prudence Wilder didnt fail in passing her knowledge on to her oldest daughter.”
Amy grinned and put a finger at her own chin.
“Which happens to be me.”
“But we would need gas, and...”
“Yeah, thats a problem. So, what are you standing there idle like packaged again by the Skorzena bitch? Lets start searching for gas!”

Theodora Roosevelt Building, HQ Republican Party, Washington D.C., USA, September 8th, 1939, 9.31 hours

“Nice to meet you again, Arlene.”
“The pleasure is mine, Lady Ryan.”
“Please, still Jill for you.”
“Well, as the head of the Reps foreign&defence policy team, you are not only entitled to receive this secret briefing, but also to be treated politely by a beancountress like me.”
“Okay, okay, I foolishly thought we could let this run as two-girls-chatting-about-bad-old-times. Anyway, how IS life over in Langley?”
“Quite busy since the madness started in Europe. I am actually starting to believe the administration is listening to us, now, that the German bitches drew their sword and shed blood.”
“Dont count on it, in two or three weeks, when the media gets bored of it, Lady Roosevelt will lose interest too.”
“Youre probably right, but as long as it lasts...”
“Does she listen to you? At least more than she did back then, when I...”
“Uh, Lady Ryan, maybe I am a bit more... ah... diplomatically about it. The old dragon likes economic statistics. I show her aplenty. She doesnt like to hear about tanks and bombers, so I dont mention them.”
“You are a tactician.”
“I am a businesswoman at heart. The difference between big business and war...”
“Is marginal, I know. Okay, Arlene, on with the show. From what the media says, the Superfrauen cut the polish army to shreds. And the Goebbels in Germany sounds more triumphant by the day. From what I gathered beforehand, the Germans use their armour and air force in a new form of operations. Besides, Polands situation was bad from the beginning, the country lies like meat between the German jaws.”
“Uh, you hardly need a briefing, it seems. You point out the two main facts. Count to that the not completed Polish mobilization and the numerical advantage of the Krauts, and you see that and why the Poles are in very dire straits.”
“So it is as bad as it seems?”
“Even worse.”
“How long?”
“Three to four weeks, if Warsaw holds out long enough. The Germans are advancing in the north, see here, on the map. Thats the line on the third, and here yesterday. The Polish forces are clearly in total disarray. We think the Superfrauen will start to advance in the south too. Maybe there will be some delaying action in Eastern Poland, prolonging the drama for the odd week, but dont count on it.”
“I see. And the Allies?”
“The French sit behind the Maginot line, the United Queendom has mobilized the fleet, and there have been some air attacks on German soil, but the German fighters seem to dominate their home sky. You naturally cant believe the numbers of shot down British planes they claim, but a report on my desk from inside the RAF states the losses are indeed grim. So the Britas might stop even this small activity soon.”
“Will the French...”
“Dont think so, Lady Ryan. Its not a military thing, their administration lacks the will to act. And their general staff is strictly defensively minded. At least the Britas think the French COULD break through the SIEGLINDA-line, if they only try. But they wont. And in a few weeks it will be too late. When the German eastern forces are finished with Poland and relocate west, the Wehrmacht will outnumber the French Army by about 3 to 1. According to British sources the French field about 70 divisions, the Germans nearly 200, including about 20 armoured divisions. In the air its even worse.”
“So it looks bleak even for the future. When Poland is done for, the Hitler will assault France next. Probably through Netherlands/Belgium, flanking the Maginot Line.”
“We think alike, though I am not so deeply into military matters.”
“Does CIA or the administration think that far? What will happen if Germany defeats the French after Poland? They will control the whole European mainland minus Russia. The UQ will be all alone, with Italy and Japan lurking in the background like jakals.”
“No, no one thinks that far. Most, even chief of staff, Lady Craig, consider the French army to be better than the Germans. They still underestimate the Superfrauen.”
“They will all think otherwise one year from now. Anyway, thanks for the briefing, Arlene.”
“I am afraid I learned more from you than you from my briefing.”
“Oh, I learned important things too.”
“So, Lady Ryan?”
“Yes, Arlene. I learned that you are the right chick at the right place...”


Peoples Comissaress Building, The Kremlin, Moscow, USSR, September 9th, 1939, 18.25 hours

“So, I have the honour to inform the meeting that the secret part of our treaty with the Germans entitles us to liberate the Eastern part of capitalist Poland from the clutches of evil.”
Ilona Shmikova kept her face totally impassive while listening to Gospoda Molotovas revelation. Which was, everyone would grant Ilona that, not an easy task. Not for the first time she asked herself if the Molotova really believed in everything falling out of her mouth. Probably. Anyway, the news were not new to Ilona, as the Stalina herself had briefed her already in the night of 23rd of August, after the treaty had been signed in this very building.
Surprising was only that is was so soon after this date that the occupation of Eastern Poland would be implemented.
This was due to the German Wehrmacht, which was at present conquering Poland in a worrisome pace. The Stalina had told Ilona that the Red Army was far stronger and better than the German Army, but the Shmikova had certain doubts about that.
How could an Army be a match for the Germanskas which best generals had been sent as helplessly roped and gagged packages to Siberia by Ilona and her NKVD herself only 2 years ago?
She knew the report of her numerous agents in Germany too. The Wehrmacht was strong, modern, well trained, motivated and backed up by a strong industry lacking only in raw materials. And the Hitlers and her Superfrauen appetite was still not satisfied. Ilona was sure, one day the Germans would come upon the USSR, after finishing the weak Western Allies.
Then the Red Army and the Stalina would be in for a hard time, while she, head of NKVD, had always warned the Stalina about the German juggernaut. And then... well, we will see, Ilona, wont we?
She put a fresh Marlboro between her cute lips and pretended to listen further to the Molotovas ramblings, thinking of the Stalinas faults, which biggest up to date was surely to trust sweet Shmikova.